


Home

by AFey



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-21 11:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11356413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFey/pseuds/AFey
Summary: Miranda tries to find the words to bring Andrea back.





	1. Chapter 1

 

_My words were cold and flat_

_And you deserve more than that_

_Home - Michael Bublé_

***********

All across Europe, Miranda drafts countless emails to Andrea. She wastes precious time trying to compose the perfect combination of words that will erase the memory of their last conversation. Every attempt lays abandoned. A testament to the brutal truth - she is long gone, wanting no part of Miranda or her world. And yet she persists, hoping to create the magic formula that will convince Andrea to return.

_Andrea,_

_Tomorrow we fly out of Milan. My assistant misplaced our tickets and, unlike you, is proving to be totally unsuitable…._

It's in Paris that the urge to write is strongest. The compulsion to reach out and resurrect a connection is hard to resist. When she was here a year ago, Stephen demanded a divorce and for just a few minutes her former assistant peeked behind the curtain. Devoid of her glamorous armour, she was not the great and powerful editor. She was merely a woman with another personal failure for the tabloids to feast on. Andrea saw her at her most vulnerable and still she didn't stay.

_Andrea,_

_I thought of you as we flew into Paris. I think this city will always remind me of you…._

In the last year there's been a revolving door of assistants passing through her office. Silly, slender girls who relish the opportunity to work at Runway, but inevitably disappoint. Smart girls, with no style or sense of fashion, who disappoint her even more. So close to filling Andrea’s shoes and yet, in the end, they never meet her expectations.

_Andrea,_

_It's our second day in Paris and my assistant is frustrating me beyond belief. She never seems to anticipate my needs and bores me with her incessant questions. Why can't she be more like you?_

Today, more than ever, she feels the absence. Introducing her latest assistant to Valentino triggered thoughts of an earlier introduction - “this is my new Emily.” It’s a haunting refrain; a reminder of her closely guarded secret. Not, as Andrea no doubt suspects, a device to demean her. Instead, it remains a futile attempt at self-preservation. After all, refusing to say her name out loud does nothing to stop it echoing in her mind.

_Andrea,_

_It's almost time to return to New York and finally my assistant’s performance has improved. Still, I know her work ethic will never match yours...._

Miranda doesn’t do maudlin. She doesn’t pine. Or so she tells herself as she sits alone in her hotel room drinking expensive wine. She promises herself that tonight will be the last attempt to email Andrea. Once she’s home, this inconvenient fixation needs to end. She can't afford the distraction. Not when there's her daughters to consider. She decides the fewer words she uses the better.

_Dear Andrea,_

_I miss you. You were never a disappointment._

_Yours,_

_Miranda_

This time she hits send. The wine, of course, makes a convenient culprit.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Miranda has surprised Andy. But is it a welcome surprise?

_You've become the memory_

_I can't erase_

_Anyone At All - Carole King_

 **********

Andy Sachs has a routine from which she never strays. Every day she scours news reports to see what her colleagues have covered and analyses their style and approach. She uses it as an exercise to improve her own writing - when she gets her big break at _The New York Mirror_ she wants to be ready.

This task complete, she checks her Google alerts. She considers it an indulgence, but perhaps it's really a form of masochism. Who else would create one to monitor a former boss who rarely addressed them by their actual name and often treated them with indifference? And it’s not like she continues to read the alerts with the hope of some long-awaited schadenfreude. No, she genuinely wants to read only good news about Miranda.  

As she signs into her email, Andy feels a sense of embarrassment. It's the realisation that her interest in Miranda has morphed from conscientious to obsessive.  The account she uses is an old one, set up during her time at _Runway._  Apart from the alerts, the only emails she receives are from people pimping viagra, herbal supplements and miracle cures for an undersized penis. She has no such need.  

Today is different.  Amidst the emails promising the impossible and proclaiming the preposterous ( _serio_ _usly, who would believe Miranda would ever “canoodle” in public?),_ is the most shocking one of all.  An email from the legend herself.  There's no subject line,  so perhaps it's a mistake.  The email is meant for some aspiring designer whose name also starts with ‘A’.  But who is she kidding, Miranda never makes mistakes.

She doesn't delude herself that the email will convey anything other than the editor’s trademark displeasure.  Yet, she's at a loss - what's left for Miranda to email her about? Andy only has a few outfits that she pilfered from the _Runway_ closet. Nothing that would be missed by Miranda or anyone else. So, it can't be that. To them, the clothing would be seasons out of date and not worth a second thought.  To Andy there is sentimental value;  the memory of Miranda’s lingering appraisal of her body, the glint of approval in her eyes.

The idea that she would bother emailing to once again pronounce her disappointment is also unlikely. A year has passed and Andy's sure by now there’s been a veritable smorgasbord of disappointing, silly or incompetent assistants.  With that many new Emily's, why would she remember or care about her? Of course, none of the newer versions have deserted Miranda during any Fashion Week so perhaps that's it. It's an email to demonstrate that the powerful editor is now ready to extract her revenge.

She finally opens it and realises the accuracy of her prediction. Twelve simple words. That's all it takes to mess up her ordered existence.  Her world only rotates smoothly on its axis when she can observe Miranda from afar, with no actual contact. Now this.  This is both too much and everything she's wanted all packaged up in Miranda’s well-known brevity.  She reads the email again -

_Dear Andrea,_

_I miss you.  You were never a disappointment._

_Yours,_

_Miranda_

Fuck.  What's she supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that in the time this story takes place (a year after the movie ends), Google alerts would still be a thing and spam filters were not as effective as they are now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy is unsure about how to respond to Miranda. Even as a writer, does she have the words?

_You think I'd let you close,  
If you weren't good on the inside _

_You Make Me Happy - Clare Bowditch_

Andy is tempted to ignore the email. She rationalises that not responding will keep her safe and free from the gravitational pull of Miranda. She soon dismisses that as an option. By reaching out to her, even virtually, her former boss exerts her usual force. In the end, much to her mortification, Andy is powerless to resist.

On the first day she drafts epic diatribes about how Miranda never really appreciated her and that her treatment of other people was something she'd never want to emulate. It feels cathartic, if unproductive. It’s also untrue. Offering staff the opportunity to develop professionally is the Priestly approach to appreciation. It's self serving of course, but also mutually beneficial. And Andy’s decision to choose her career over Emily's feelings proves she is capable of letting her ambition override her personal ethics. If the last year is anything to go by, she can no longer blame Miranda for that type of behaviour.

Next she attempts to call her former boss out for her continued manipulation. Telling her she's never been a disappointment - does she not remember the number of times she actually applied that word and all its variations to Andy? Although the last time the word was used it was counterbalanced by telling Greg he'd be a fool not to hire her. So perhaps Miranda is being sincere.

With all this out of her system, she tries to create a reply that politely encompasses both dismissiveness and sincere thanks. Such a composition is beyond her. It turns out she is incapable of thanking Miranda, while also making it clear that she wants no more contact. She blames her professional training - journalism is about getting to the truth of the matter - and the truth is she really does want to see Miranda again.

Naturally it crosses Andy's mind that meeting with her or even just talking to her could be the biggest mistake of her life. She's gotten used to her life being a certain way and she doesn't want anything or anyone to mess with that. Then she remembers the concern and devotion Miranda feels for her daughters. Her fear that the divorce from Stephen would undermine their world. Given Miranda’s other commitments, Andy can't imagine her wasting time if her intentions weren't genuine.

Eventually she realises the quest for perfection is pointless. Either Miranda will be receptive to her words or she won't. She decides to keep her reply simple and basic. Four sentences that encapsulate her thoughts and desires. Andy clicks send. And hopes for the best.

 

**************************

_I never said that I was easy  
Always pushing for the best_

_You Make Me Happy - Clare Bowditch_

On her return to New York, Miranda's sums up her impression of Paris Fashion Week in her usual pithy manner - colour, colour, and more colour. Her staff, on the other hand, have become quite tedious with their constant gushing over the vibrancy of the collections and the brilliance of the designers. It doesn't escape her attention that the one topic they avoid is the presence of cerulean blue in Dior’s 60th anniversary collection.

Like some cosmic joke, this particular shade of blue has reappeared in her life at an inopportune time. The colour always conjures up a vision of a doe-eyed brunette in a ‘lumpy blue sweater’ : self-righteous and utterly naive about the world of fashion. Despite her lapse in Paris, and her unresolved feelings for Andrea, she really can’t afford to be engrossed in anything other than _Runway_ and her daughters. The turbulence of the past year makes her need for control even greater and impels her to demand even more from her staff.

Mostly she’s relieved there's been no response to her ill-advised email. She didn't really expect one, given her former assistant’s proclamation that she wasn't like Miranda and didn't want to live like her. Andrea’s probably not inclined to open the door to any sort of reunion. Her stubbornness - so often a positive trait when applied to meeting, and even exceeding, the editor’s expectations - may also be at play. Ignoring Miranda gives the younger woman power.

Before heading home, she checks her email one more time. As much as possible she tries not to let work intrude upon her time with her daughters. It means working late into the night after the twins are asleep, but they're worth the sacrifice. Since Stephen cut off all contact with them, she is even more determined to provide her girls with much needed stability.

As she peruses the subject lines of her unread emails, she notices one that is blank. Sender : andysachs82@hotmail.com. She feels a flutter in her stomach and vaguely categorises the sensation as nerves. It's not something she's used too. Never one for avoidance, she opens the email straightaway.

_Miranda,_

_I seem to recall that I was, by far, your biggest disappointment._  
_I also know I could be stuck working for TV Guide.  
Maybe it's time we talked? A lot can change in a year._

_Andy_

Not since Andrea deserted her in Paris has she been this stunned. While the first line is totally predictable, everything else is a surprise. The greatest surprise of all, and the one that leaves her somewhat shaken, is the offer to talk. It’s an offer that leaves her conflicted - it's both a threat to her equilibrium and yet, on reflection, exactly what she hoped for when she sent the email.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, Miranda and Andy will appear in the same place in the next chapter!  
> Also, slight cheat : I believe the 60th Dior anniversary collection was very colourful but it was held in July and the colours included ice blue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, provided kudos or left comments on this story and the others I've put up here. I've been remiss in saying that this is a very welcoming fandom!
> 
> And apologies that this update is both so short and so long in coming. I struggled with this chapter and realised I was trying to get to the warm and fuzzy place too quickly. Even though they both have 'feelings' for each other, there's a bit of sorting out to be done...

_Something always brings me back to you_

_Gravity - Sara Bareilles_

_****************_

Conflict consumes her as soon as Miranda agrees to meet. The initial thrill of getting what she wants tempered by the doubt and pessimism that swiftly follows. Being in the same room again is one thing. But is it possible for her former boss to ever see her as an equal?

When it comes to coordinating schedules, Andy’s pride and stubbornness saves her from the sin of over-eagerness. After all, with their history it's an instinctive reaction to immediately comply with anything Miranda suggests.

She invents excuses with an ease that's disconcerting. Deadlines that don't exist, engagements long past, commitments easily broken. Her intention is simple - to make it clear she's no longer at Miranda's beck and call. There's a trace of guilt about the deception, but instant availability is not the way to gain respect.

After two weeks of emails Andy commits to a time and place. The habitual presence of her room mate excludes her apartment from the possibilities, and so, for the sake of privacy, she agrees to meet at Miranda's townhouse. The moment she does so it feels like a tactical error. A return to the site of her former humiliations is not the way to ensure an even footing.

She spends far too long choosing an outfit. It's a glowing neon sign that taunts her with the truth : Miranda's approval is still important. A reflex that a year apart has not weakened. In dismay, Andy selects clothes at random and gives little thought to the final outcome. When she looks in the mirror, she greets her reflection with a hollow laugh but doesn't bother to change.

Leaving her apartment, she resolves not to cave in too easily. There are questions she wants answers to and explanations to seek for Miranda's behaviour. She wonders how long she can resist her though. Ultimately just the sound of her name, said in that unique way, might be enough to sabotage her.

 

*********************

Miranda sits on the Henredon sofa and sips her ‘82 Chateau Latour, revelling in its heady scent and seamless finish. She's acutely aware that consuming the same vintage in Paris aided this welcome turn of events - a former assistant in her home again.

Despite its perfection, she places the glass of wine on a nearby side table. As tempting as it is to keep drinking she really wants to maintain a clear head. With what lies ahead, it's probably best to avoid the dual intoxication of wine and Andrea.

She re-positions herself on the sofa and glances across the room. Andrea stands by the window, her back to Miranda, a glass of scotch in hand. There's a rigidity to her pose. A definite tension that's been evident since her arrival and their exchange of vague pleasantries.

After a year with no contact, Miranda takes the opportunity to surreptitiously examine her. The dark hair is a little shorter, though stylishly tamed. She once more notes the familiarity of the outfit. It's exactly what Andrea was wearing the last time they saw each other. The verdict : two nods and a smile.

“You know, I watched you that day. From the car.”

Andrea turns and fixes her with a doubtful look. “You mean the day you ignored me.”

Her reply is calm and quiet. “I may not have acknowledged you Andrea, but I certainly noticed you.”

A shake of the head is the first response. As if to defy whatever thoughts are passing through her mind. When they come, Andrea’s words are laced with scepticism. “So you ignored my wave, and then watched me. Why?”

Miranda sighs. The truth will invite more questions and explaining herself is a tiresome task she normally avoids.

Glancing over Andrea’s shoulder, she replies. “I didn't want to miss you walking out of my life again.”

Her words linger between them. The silence a weighty presence in the room that only ends when an almost empty glass of scotch is placed loudly on the window sill.

“I guess we should talk about Paris.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a glacial pace. I started this in June last year, and last updated it in September...2017.
> 
> I’ll show myself out...

_You pray you learn, you ask you learn  
You live you learn_

_You Learn - Alanis Morissette_

 

‘Fucking, Paris,’ Andy thinks.

She’s spent the last year regretting her behaviour in the so-called City of Love - leaving Miranda’s hotel suite with a fractured heart only to be lured in by Christian Thompson’s glib seduction. Idiocy. Then, in a further act of foolishness, letting her moral outrage and fear override her sense of professional duty.

“Yes, Paris,” Miranda says quietly. “Otherwise known as the location for the most important week of my year.”

Andy leaves the glass on the window sill, crossing the room in careful strides, and sits down on the sofa opposite Miranda’s. All the while, she feels the weight of Miranda’s scrutiny, a reminder of her days at _Runway_. Judged and found wanting on so many occasions.

“Don’t you mean the location of your biggest disappointment,” Andy says, surprising herself by the bite in her tone. “Or can you separate the person from the city?”

With that her stomach clenches and she waits for Miranda’s response - most likely terse and deadly accurate.

To her astonishment, Miranda calmly retrieves her glass of wine and takes a slow sip, seemingly savouring its flavour.

“No, Andrea,” Miranda begins and Andy leans forward a little at the tenderness in her voice, a flower transfixed by the sun. “Most days I consider Paris to be the place where I scared away someone for whom I cared.”

Her heart races at the enormity of Miranda’s revelation. Even so, Andy knows she needs to press further. “But you rarely even said my name? Even in Paris you referred to me as,‘my new Emily’.”

A moment passes whilst Miranda sets down her glass. “Would you have rather I'd called you, my Andrea?” Miranda asks, with a penetrating look. “Inappropriate as it was, that’s certainly how I thought of you at the time.”

Andy swallows, looking around the room. From the moment Miranda emailed her, she knew a conversation about Paris was inevitable. She’s pictured this scenario countless times and at best she’d imagined mutual admissions of poor behaviour and sincere apologies. Instead she now has a confession of...lust? Affection? Love?

Lost in thought, Miranda’s quiet cough brings her back to the matter at hand.

“Really?” she asks, and silently curses her lameness. Instead of conveying maturity, she sounds like a perplexed child.

“Yes, Andrea. Before we even left for Paris, I knew.”

“Knew what?” Andy breathes, unable to subdue the yearning in her voice.

Miranda folds her hands in her lap and sighs. “That you were much more than just an assistant to me.”

  
  
******

 

Miranda closes her eyes, a bid to escape the intensity of Andrea’s gaze. Somehow, despite her propensity for privacy, she’s exposed herself as the boss who harboured inappropriate feelings for her assistant. How can she possibly reclaim her dignity after this cliched confession?

Silence settles over the room for several moments until she hears a quiet sniff.

“Then why did you call me your biggest disappointment?” Andrea whispers.

Miranda opens her eyes, confirming her suspicions. Tears glimmer in Andrea’s eyes and once again she’s the cause.

“Because my hopes for you went unfulfilled,” she says, reaching for her wine glass. Another sip for courage and she continues, “I wanted to give you everything and you walked away.”

“I was scared and angry,” Andrea replies, a tear trickling down her cheek. She ducks her head and says, “If you could do that to Nigel, how could I trust that you wouldn’t do the same to me?”

Miranda remains silent, knows with an undeniable certainty that Andrea has more to say. If she waits, exercises patience, perhaps she’ll be rewarded with the truth.

“If I stayed, how long would it have been before I hurt someone other than Emily?”

“Oh, Andrea,” Miranda sighs as she rises from the sofa and crosses the room to retrieve a box of tissues from her desk. She leaves her wine glass in its place and then walks over to Andrea, offering her the box. “I assure you Emily is perfectly fine in her new position in the Art Department.”

When Andrea ignores her offering, Miranda sits down beside her, maintaining a proper distance.

“Would you please look at me?”

It’s a plea she almost regrets when Andrea finally meets her eyes. Once again she’s inflicted pain on someone she loves. It’s truly a skill she’s mastered without intent.

“May I?” Miranda asks, as she removes a tissue and gestures towards Andrea’s face.

“Of course,” Andrea murmurs, shifting on the sofa so their bodies are almost touching. Miranda is overwhelmed by relief, grateful that this time Andrea remains by her side.

“This didn’t quite go as I planned,” she says, and cups Andrea’s chin, gently dabbing at the tears on her face.

Andrea blinks and averts her gaze. “And crying in front of you wasn’t part of my plan either.”

 

******

 

‘Great work, Sachs,’ she thinks as Miranda tends to her tear-stained face. All that time spent on her makeup, trying to look sophisticated, ruined the moment she succumbed to tears.

Her grand plans to gain an equal footing with Miranda now lay in ruin. Andy may be half her age, but she’s matured in the past year and tonight was her opportunity to prove it. Instead, she has once again failed to control her emotions.

“There, that’s better,” Miranda says and the concern is almost enough to trigger more tears. Disdain and anger she can handle, but turns out, kindness from Miranda is her undoing.

“Thank you,” she says, summoning the strength to meet Miranda’s eyes. To her surprise, after several moments, it’s Miranda who glances away first.

“May I visit the bathroom?” Andy asks, hoping some distance will restore her composure.

Miranda pushes herself up from the sofa and gestures towards the hallway, “Let me show you the way.”

Pointing to the bathroom door, Miranda gives her a small smile and says, “Take your time, I’ll make us both some tea.”

“I’d really like that,” Andy says and opens the door. A brief glance to ensure Miranda has departed and then she steps in and closes the door.

Looking in the mirror her fears are confirmed. Her face is the perfect reflection for the evening so far. A complete fucking mess.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to S who convinced me that this was worth updating.


End file.
